In Rue de Provence every night, when the sky above the clouds of Paris passed from blue to pink, until it became purple and then blue, started a dance. This could be seen from the windows of the building, a typical Parisian building with a gray facade punctuated by windows that are always lit up at six.

From the curtains you could see Madame Damour walking through the corridors up and down the three floors of the building. Her heels resounded on the tiles and the skirt rustling accompanied every movement of the legs. The girls were preparing for the evening starting by combing their hair loose, arranging them in waves around their faces, then moving on to makeup, dresses and the unmissable perfume.

Madame Damour had chosen the girls one to one, scrupulously, the one different from each other so each one could explore their own natural inclination behind those windows. They were all friends, sisters and lovers, and Madame Damour was pleased with the harmony that was in her home.

Each evening a dance made of bodies, smells and pleasures ended with the arrival of the morning, when the blue carried away the lights of the night.